The Forgotten
by carinims01
Summary: They were friends, right? They'd fought alongside each other, hadn't they? He had saved Gwaine, and Camelot, time and time again. Right? So why couldn't he remember the young man named Merlin? Did he want to remember? And what about everyone else? And what if it was too late? Rated T. No slash. Reveal fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: IDOM

Good evening! This is an idea I've been playing with for a while, so I hope I did it justice. I may or may not continue it, based of the feedback I receive from it. I have a general idea of what I want to do with it, but we'll see. I hope you guys like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

It began when Gwaine saw a green cloak slouching against the castle walls watching the knights train. Well, it began... again.

There was nothing odd about someone watching them. Oftentimes, a few townspeople people would come and observe their training. Both young and old. Those who, could very possibly grow up to be knights, and those that had long since passed the age of knighthood. They were used to it. In fact, Gwaine had seen this particular cloak quite often. Perhaps a few times a week for the past three months. He wasn't a threat by any means, but more and more, something was pulling on Gwaine.

He was _different_.

The knight couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about him. Perhaps it was the way he never reacted. While the others, the children especially, would cheer their favorite knight on during duels, he would just stand there stoically. Watching.

He couldn't see his face, or much of his body, even. The cloak hid a great deal of him and his face was cast in shadow. Still, there was nothing significant about him. None of the other knights deemed him important. Arthur hadn't so much as given him a second look.

Gwaine didn't know why it was bothering him so much.

He was nearly knocked off his feet with fright when the king's sword _clank_ 'd against his own. However, he most certainly did not jump like a cornered cat or give a startled yelp.

"Gwaine, have you been listening at all?" Arthur snapped. He stuck his sword in the ground and crossed his arms.

Honestly, he wasn't sure. By the way that Arthur's eyes were narrowed and brow furrowed, no, he'd missed it all. He didn't even know he'd been watching the cloaked man that long. Or that he'd been staring at all.

"Erm."

The king rolled his eyes, plucking his sword out of the ground. "Of course not. You are facing Elyan and Leon in a duel—over there. We haven't done two on one's in a while. You're lucky I'm not putting you against Percival."

Gwaine looked behind him once more to where the man had been standing. He was gone. The knight ran a gloved hand through his hair, stalking over to where his friends stood, waiting. If Arthur hadn't interrupted him, he might have figured it out this time. He tightened his grip on his sword, focusing all his self-annoyance on training.

* * *

Leon and Elyan didn't go easy on him. He was sure he had a dozen more bruises to add to the collection. He considered going to see Gaius, but he'd lived through worse. He'd just be sore. And all Gaius would recommend was rest.

Nothing a little bit of ale couldn't help with. Maybe he could even wrangle up the gang to go to the tavern with him tonight. He grinned to himself as he walked down the corridor to his room. He peeled off his armour as quickly as he could with aching muscles and changed into a fresh tunic. Splashing some water on his face, he realized that he still couldn't get the man off his mind.

Maybe he should mention it to Arthur, at least. Even if it was stupid.

He jumped down the hall to Percival's room. Then Leon's. Then Elyan's. And to add to it, sweet Guinevere was there, and with some courtly words and some good-natured threats from Elyan that Gwen was, in fact, fully capable of kicking his rear, even she agreed to come. She was even able to convince his royal highness to come, which was quite out of the ordinary.

The more the merrier, he always said.

And it was after Gwaine had gotten a few pints of ale within him that he pulled him aside (as they were getting another round, of course) and asked if he'd taken note of the cloaked man during practice.

"I have, but he seems of no consequence," Arthur said easily. "Probably just some village boy dreaming of being a knight one day."

Gwaine tried to understand, but he wasn't quite convinced. It was too easy. It still didn't fit.

An hour later they left, full of mead and warm food. They all made sure that Guinevere got back to her house in the lower town safely before climbing their way up towards the castle.

It was then that they heard a muffled yell coming from behind them.

And the knights, though wholly unarmed, were still knights.

Arthur led them through the lower town, past several houses whose candles had long since been burnt out. A dog barked several cottages away.

There was another yell. Followed by a rather loud crash.

The king whipped around the next corner. "Hey! What's going on here?"

The rest of the knights followed quickly behind him. A lone man was standing in the middle of the alleyway, a knife in his hand and what looked like blood glinting off of it. Behind him, another figure lay prone on the ground on top of, and slightly hidden by, broken crates. When the attacker saw the full group, however, he promptly dropped the knife and ran the other way.

"Percival, Leon, after him!" Arthur shouted. "Elyan! Fetch Gaius! Gwaine, stay with him!"

The king raced down the alleyway with his other two knights as Elyan sprinted in the other direction. Gwaine jumped towards the prone figure but was stopped in his tracks by... green.

It was _the_ green cloak.

The same one that he couldn't seem to get out of his head.

With renewed efforts, he threw the offending wood off of the man and looped his arms beneath him, pulling him out of the wreckage and setting him on the ground. With a gasp, Gwaine realized that Arthur had, by some measure, been correct. He was only a young man. He couldn't be older than twenty five. His hair was jet black, his skin pale, his clothing simple.

 _Merlin._

Sudden panic shot through him as he remembered the blood dripping off the attacker's blade. And sure enough, there was a deep cut in the man's side. Blood ebbed out of the wound. Gwaine didn't think his life was at risk, but it would certainly be debilitating. And hurt like hell. There was blood seeping out of a few other areas, too, including a nasty head wound.

"Oh, god," he hissed.

The young man's eyes suddenly burst open, locking on him. Gwaine could see fear there, but also relief. The knight didn't think he'd ever forget the pained look on that too-familiar face as he whispered, "Gwaine." He was panting. Sweat gathered at his brow.

"It's okay. You're safe now."

"Stop right there!"

The knight looked up to see two Camelotian guards running at them with torches. Gwaine _really_ needed to talk to Arthur about his night guards.

"G-Gwaine."

His attention was once more drawn towards the young man in his arms. "Hey, it's okay. You're going to be fine. I've got you."

It didn't seem to appease him. Nor did it take away the grief or pain that was growing in the young man's blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, the young man licked his lips and grasped at Gwaine's tunic as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

There was a flash of gold and suddenly, Merlin was gone.

Gwaine bolted to his feet and turned on his heels, searching. " _What?"_

The knight knew no one just _vanished_. At least, not without magic. His next thought startled and confused him more than even the persisting question of who the man in the green cloak had been.

 _Who the hell is Merlin?_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hey, guys! Thank you so incredibly much for your reviews. I'm sorry I wasn't able to reply to them, but they were so encouraging. Thank you all! Anyway, because of your clearly excited response to the last chapter, here's the next one. I can't promise that I'll be able to update regularly, but I'll do my best. For now, I hope you enjoy this one as much as you did the last.

Thank you again! Enjoy!

* * *

 _Merlin Merlin Merlin Merlin..._

Gwaine couldn't get the man's name out of his head. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his pained face. He could feel the weight of him in his arms. The feel of the thick cloak that covered him.

Elyan came jogging down the hill in front of the physician. Panting, he said, "Gwaine! Where is he?"

"I..." He was still so focused on the subtle glint of Merlin's blood on his hands.

"Sir Gwaine," Gaius said flatly. "Where is he? I do not appreciate being awoken in the middle of the night for no reason."

"He's gone." The knight blinked several times to try to clear his head. "He just... disappeared."

Elyan grabbed his wrists, startling him. "Are you injured?"

"No, no, I'm fine. It's not mine," he explained. "It's Merlin's."

 _Merlin Merlin Merlin Merlin..._

"Merlin?" Gaius echoed. "Who's Merlin?"

Gwaine looked at him. Really looked at him. Because for some reason, Merlin and Gaius just went together. For some reason, the one seemed like it belonged with the other. But by the look of genuine confusion in his eyes, he didn't know who he was. Neither did Elyan.

"It was... the man... who disappeared."

"Guys!" Arthur came running back towards them. Percival and Leon followed behind him. "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Gwaine said he—"

"Merlin."

"—that _Merlin_ disappeared," Gaius explained.

The king's eyes widened with surprise. "You know him?"

Gwaine took a deep breath, trying to stop the rush of _protect protect protect_ in his head that followed the young man's name. Something was wrong. So very wrong. But he couldn't put his finger on it. "No, but... He's the one in the green cloak I told you about. He just..."

After a moment, when Gwaine didn't continue, Arthur sighed. "Our guy got away too. He disappeared right in front of our eyes. We're assuming magic. I'm going to double the guard in the Lower Town. I don't want to panic everyone. Leon, if you could inform the Watchmen. Gaius, I'm sorry for waking you. After the guard has been informed, I want you all to bed. I need you all rested if they return."

Gaius dipped his head before turning back towards the city. The rest of the knights followed behind him. All except Gwaine. He was staring at his hands again with a horrified look in his eyes. Like someone who'd just seen a family member die. He didn't notice the king walking up to him until Arthur's fingers wrapped around his wrist.

The younger man's voice was soft. "Gwaine?"

It took him a few seconds to look up, but when Gwaine met his eyes, the knight saw the true concern there.

"Are you okay?"

Gwaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to regain himself. He scrubbed his hands on his pants before looking back up at his friend. "'Merlin' doesn't mean anything to you?"

"No," Arthur answered truthfully. "Should it?"

The knight didn't know. He didn't have an answer. "I'm fine. Just... tired." With that, Gwaine followed the rest of his friends up the hill and towards his bed, azure eyes following him the whole way.

* * *

The next few days flew by. Arthur had doubled the guard and sent more patrols out into the forest, which meant that Gwaine was up much earlier than he wanted to be and went to bed much later than he wanted to. But that was okay with him because it gave him more time to think about the maybe-stranger. He'd seen neither head nor tail of the young man since the incident, and some part of Gwaine was all too relieved. After the wound he'd received, he would need his rest.

But the knight couldn't explain why the thought of him hurt nearly pushed him into an anxiety attack or explain the righteous fury that blazed through him.

He kept dreaming of red neckerchiefs and sunshine, laughter and mead, horseback riding and adventure. When he woke up, he felt even more tired than before. He didn't tell anyone. He didn't want his friends to worry. Even though he was probably going crazy.

And things only got worse when one of the early morning patrols found someone creeping around the Walls. And because Camelot's guards are so great... They got away.

Gwaine was furious. He wasn't even angry at the guards, who'd let them get away. He wasn't angry with Arthur, who'd just let the guards off and told them to keep looking. He wasn't even angry at the potential criminal stalking the Walls.

No, he was more angry with himself. And, well... Everyone that insisted that 'Merlin' meant nothing to them. Gwaine thought that if he hadn't been the one to stay with him that night, he wouldn't have thought twice about him. 'Merlin' wouldn't mean anything to him either.

Regardless, he did.

And Gwaine had to figure out what to do.

His fingers balled into a fist as he walked to Arthur's chambers. The king had called a meeting of the Round Table in regards to everything that's been happening. In normal circumstances, he would be relieved to address something like this. This time, though, his attention was elsewhere, and he really didn't want any of them thinking he was losing his mind. He tried his best to push down the thoughts he had of the young man haunting his every waking hour.

He knocked gently before entering and found everyone was there except for Leon and Elyan. Gwen informed him that they were finishing a patrol and would be there shortly. The knight had simply nodded. He knew Gwen had been safely in her house when everything had occurred, but that hadn't stopped him from asking if she knew anything of the strange boy. She hadn't. It wasn't a surprise to the knight, but it just added to the _wrongness_ he felt.

Dropping himself into one of the chairs at the table, he folded his hands behind his head. The king stood by the window, Percival by his side as they spoke of the recent news of the intruder on the Wall. Gwen sat quietly in her seat, but she looked like she was itching to get up and clean something. The dark haired knight smiled softly. Even though she was technically a Lady now that Elyan was a knight, she would never lose her humility or her want to be of use. In the background, Arthur's servant George stoked the fire.

He was a strange man, but he was kind and polite. George made sure the king was well taken care of. Spoiled him, if Gwaine was honest. Everything was always cleaned within an inch of its life and there was never anything out of its place.

" _Prat."_

Gwaine slammed his eyes shut at the sudden voice in his head. It wasn't his. It wasn't the other knights. It was Merlin's. Sounding snarky and disrespectful, but with an undercurrent of affection. He put his hand to his forehead, taking a deep breath.

" _And if it wasn't for that fire, we'd all be pushing up daisies."_

" _Oh, god, are those Arthur's socks?"_

" _Merlin, clean up this lot."_

" _Yes, Sir Dollophead."_

" _Merlin! It's almost good to see you!"_

" _Hey! Bog-man!"_

" _My clothes need laundering, my sword needs sharpening, my bedclothes need changed. My stables need mucked out, and_ someone _needs to polish these boots."_

 _Servant._

Gwaine gasped at the sudden rush of memories. That's what they were! They weren't visions or hallucinations! Memories! Then he startled with the realization that the young man had been a servant. Finally! Some piece of solid information!

But he'd heard Arthur's voice in his memories. And his own. So why didn't they remember? Had Arthur just lied to him? But that would also mean that he was lying to himself? Which didn't make sense. He shook his head in effort to clear it. One thing at a time.

 _Merlin Merlin Merlin Merlin..._

Neckerchief. Dimples. His eyes squinted when he laughed.

"Gwaine?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Guinevere set her hand lightly on his arm. She was looking at him with intense concern in her brown eyes. He felt Arthur's eyes on his back.

Gwaine ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Perhaps you should see Gaius?" Arthur suggested. The king set his hand on the back of his chair, leaning over it.

Heart thudding in his chest, the knight nodded fervently, anxious to get out of the now cramped quarters. He looked up at George again and instantly knew Merlin should have been there. _He_ was Arthur's servant. Not George.

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

He cast one last look around the too-perfect room, imagining pillows strewn about the floor and the bedclothes hanging off one edge. Arthur's armor would be thrown haphazardly on the table, but somehow, everything was perfect.

Gwaine closed his eyes and left.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hey there, guys! Thank you again so much for all the reviews. I'm loving each and every one of them. Some of you are very close to what happened, but I'm not saying who or what they guessed. Sorry! In answer to another review, this takes place about mid-season 4. I love Gwaine-centric fics too. I agree that he doesn't get enough credit. A lot of people just portray him as the drunk clown but there's so much more to him. And I love him. So much. So this is for him. :)

I hope you guys like this chapter! We're getting close now...

* * *

The knight jogged more than walked towards the physician's chambers. The thrill about finding just a scrap of information still rushed through him. Now that he knew more about the young man, maybe he'd be able to find out even more.

Then, at the same time, if he truly was Arthur's servant, why didn't the king remember him? Merlin had called him his first name, implying some form of friendship between the two of them. And if the young man had been a _servant_ and had been calling his master, the _king_ , by his first name... They must have been close at some point. So, the golden question remained: What happened?

He entered Gaius' chambers without knock and found the elder readying his medicine case for his rounds. The knight had always liked the physician. His care knew no bounds, and oftentimes, he would stay up well into the knight to make sure the citizens of Camelot were cared for properly. He was a great advisor to Arthur and had helped him through many trials since Uther had passed. He was invaluable to Camelot, and Gwaine himself saw him as a good friend.

"Ah, Gwaine," he greeted, smiling. "What brings you to my side of the castle?"

"Just a little headache," he explained. "Arthur wanted me to get it checked out."

Gwaine sat down at the table and looked around the room. Stacks and stacks of books, medical and not, were piled high onto the table, the entire room was littered with vials of strange colors. He didn't like to imagine what Gaius put in all of them. He'd heard horror stories about some of the things the physician put into his concoctions, and oftentimes, Gaius wouldn't even reveal the ingredients.

" _Toad's tongue, sheep's stomach, and just a dash of algae,"_ Merlin's voice supplied.

...but then something in his peripheral vision made him pause.

He looked to his right and saw a door. That's all it was. Just a door. But Gwaine couldn't take his eyes off of it, nor stop the itching in the back of his mind.

Gwaine didn't realize that Gaius had been talking to him until he interrupted him. "What's behind there?"

The physician glanced at it before furrowing his brow and looking at Gwaine, as though confused.. "Just a spare room. I occasionally use it to house patients who need more attention. You've stayed in there once or twice, if you remember. Now, here." He handed him a sickly green colored vial. "This will help you rest a bit. I must be off. Come back if your head doesn't improve."

"Thanks, Gaius," he said sincerely. He waited until the physician had left the room before slipping the vial into his pocket and jumping up towards the 'spare' room. Except it wasn't meant to be that way, Gwaine knew. His fuzzy memory did recall him staying there the first time he'd been in Camelot. He'd helped Arthur in a nasty bar fight and had ended up getting stabbed in the leg. Gaius had had to keep a strict watch to make sure it didn't become infected. But while he remembered staying there, there was something wrong with his memory of the 'spare room.'

His own voice echoed in his head as he slowly climbed the stairs. " _Ah, royals. Never happy."_

Merlin's laughter, plain as day, responded.

He had thought that the young man and Gaius went together somehow. This was just another piece of the puzzle. Gwaine spread his fingers on the door and pushed it open. It was plain. Single bed in the middle of the room, made neatly. Dust glittered in the sunlight coming in from the window. Despite the room obviously being unoccupied, however, it still smelled like him. Books and herbs and something unique.

Magic.

So preoccupied had he been in simply finding out who the young man was, he had nearly forgotten about the magic.

Merlin had magic.

Gwaine dropped down on the bed, head spinning. Merlin had magic. He truly didn't know whether to laugh or yell. And he didn't know why it cause such a strong reaction in him anyway. Before Camelot, he'd seen lots of magic in his travels. Good and bad. He didn't really think magic was bad, it just depended on who wielded it. So why did the young man's magic bother him so much?

Something below him drew his attention. It was just a scrap of red cloth hiding beneath the bed frame, but everything in Gwaine screamed at him. With delicate fingers, he picked up the cloth and spread it out on the bed.

Merlin's neckerchief.

"Gotcha," he smiled.

* * *

Merlin was a servant. He'd lived with Gaius. He had magic. None of them had known about the magic.

" _He's bloody confusing,"_ Gwaine groaned as he listed off what he knew so far. His head ached, but he hadn't the motivation to take the drought Gaius had given him. Too many thoughts were buzzing in his head for him to rest.

He loved blackberries. He loved the smell of the air after it rained. He loved to sit on the battlements and watch the sun set.

He was gentle, kind, compassionate. He hated seeing others suffer.

Somehow, these facts were even more important to him. It made him more real. It gave him a personality. That, and the neckerchief that Gwaine had balled in his pocket, helped ground the knight in reality. Well, whatever confusing reality he was in.

He needed to find out more. This time, however, he was going to do it alone. With magic involved, he didn't think it wise to include others. Frankly, he didn't know what would happen if Arthur found out. Or the other knights. He was fully aware of their history with magic and somewhat aware of their history with Merlin. And though they had all been friends, he didn't feel comfortable involving the others.

So he would do this on his own.

He needed to talk to Arthur to figure out the plan. He needed to find the man stalking the walls because he was sure that that was the man who stabbed Merlin. God, he needed to find Merlin.

Panic coursed through him again and he clenched his jaw, tightening his first. Merlin had better be okay. He'd lived with the best physician in all of Camelot. Surely he'd learned something to help him. Probably not though.

He'd just better be okay.

The knight felt more helpless than he cared to admit. Self-loathing flowed through him. His friend was hurt, alone, and literally no one but himself knew about it. He hated it. Or remembered him. He should ask Gaius about magic. Ask him if there was a spell that could make them all forget. He should ask Arthur about his last manservant. He should ask some of the other servants if they'd known him.

Right?

Gwaine didn't know. His head hurt, his stomach was rolling, and his heart ached. He found himself in front of his chambers before he knew where he was going. The knight shoved his way through the door and ripped off his sword belt, throwing it aside before he literally fell onto his bed. And despite the midday sunlight streaming in through the window, he was unconscious as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Merlin's blithe laugh echoed in his dreams.

* * *

Gwaine woke up to screaming.

At first, he thought he'd dreamed it, so he shoved it to the back of his mind.

Then there was another scream.

The knight's eyes flew open and he pushed himself off the bed. He snatched his sword off the ground and rushed out the door. There was another shout; it was coming from down the hall. Swords clashed. The sounds of fighting. More yelling. Smoke crawled from around the corner. Gwaine narrowed his eyes and pressed himself against the wall, clutching his sword in his hands. Footsteps came closer and closer. He reaffirmed his grip and took a deep breath.

Gwaine jumped out from behind the wall, swinging his weapon with all his might.

Metal clashed with metal as Leon jumped away from his friend. " _Gwaine!"_

The knight pulled back and dropped his weapon, gasping. He fell against the wall and clutched his chest. Leon. It was Leon. He blinked; the smoke was gone. The yelling had ceased. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground, dry heaving.

"Gwaine!" The other knight dropped down in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Gwaine, what happened?"

Had he dreamed it? Hallucinated it? Imagined it?

"I..."

Leon pulled him forward and wrapped an arm around him, taking his weight onto him as the younger knight rambled. His eyes wouldn't focus and his breathing was laboured. Gwaine couldn't think straight. He felt more than heard Leon's words.

"Let's get you to Gaius'."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: IDOM

Guys, I'm a mess. I can't stop thinking of this story. I've missed writing so much, and now that I'm back into it I can't stop. It's one in the morning and I'm dying and I have a road trip tomorrow but I had to write this and publish it. Two chapters in one day. Wee woo. I LOVE your reviews. I love all the thinking and the questions and hypothesis. Thank you all so much. Truly.

A little more answers in this chapter, and plenty more to come, I promise you. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Someone was throwing knives at him. One of the competitors. Gwaine sidled into the room, glaring daggers at the two men. Merlin spared him a warning glance and gave a little shake of his head. But Gwaine wasn't going to just stand by and watch them bully his friend. His one friend..._

 _He blinked and he was somewhere else in the castle. And Merlin... Merlin was with Lancelot. He'd be fine. Or Lancelot would have to answer to him. They were supposed to take out the warning bell. He wished he'd told Merlin to be careful. The boy had almost no self preservation skills. Gwaine wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to him. He was the first person who'd ever given him a chance._

 _He was the first person to show Gwaine what a real friend was._

 _And then he was kneeling in front of Arthur. A ceremonial was sword lightly tapped on both shoulders for the "official" knighting ceremony in front of hundreds of Camelotians. Perce, Elyan, and Lancelot were kneeling beside him, and he glanced behind him to see Merlin standing in the front row, hands folded in front of him and a proud smile on his face. The young man met his eyes and gave him a small nod, eyes shining. Gwaine couldn't help but return the grin._

 _Merlin was dying. No one survived the Dorocha attack. His face was ashen. Gwaine didn't know anyone could look so grey. Or paralytic. It frightened him. He adjusted the blanket that was covering his friend, fighting the warm tears pressing against the backs of his eyes. Merlin couldn't die. He couldn't._

" _You can't, Merlin."_

 _And then a sword was being shoved between his ribs. His whole body was on fire. His eyes widened with shock as agony coursed through him. He couldn't breathe. The world had stopped. Morgana pulled the sword out of his chest, eyes full of hatred._

 _Merlin screamed. His eyes were glowing. The witch flew backwards and collided with the wall. Gwaine fell to his knees, gasping for air. Merlin was there in an instant, tearing off his neckerchief and pressing it against the wound. There was blood everywhere. And Merlin had magic. Powerful magic._

" _M-Mer... lin..."_

 _Tears ran down the servant's face as he lowered him to the ground. Apologies were pouring off his lips as fast as Gwaine's life force was leaving him. Merlin was begging, screaming, for someone, anyone, to help him, but there was no one around. There was no one to save him. Gwaine knew this was the end._

 _He looked up into Merlin's face, frowning, and grabbed his friend's wrist. The young man met his eyes, and Gwaine saw more pain there than even he was in. There was so many things he wanted to say: that he didn't blame Merlin, that it was okay with him that he had magic, that he didn't want Merlin to cry over him._

 _Instead, all he could say was, "It'll be okay", brokenly._

 _And then darkness overtook him._

* * *

Gwaine still couldn't breathe. He bolted upright, clutching his chest. There were hands pressing against his shoulders, pressing him back down. Someone was yelling at him. It took him another moment to realize that he _could_ breathe. Or maybe it was because Arthur was yelling at him to do so. The knight panted, hand twisted into his tunic where the stab wound should be. He pulled his shirt up and ran his hand over his chest. There was nothing. No wound. No blood. Not even a scar.

"Gwaine?"

He looked up and met the king's concerned eyes. Arthur's hand was still on his shoulder. Gaius stood a few feet away, watching him with a cocked eyebrow. Leon stood beside him.

"Do you wanna tell me what's been going on?" Arthur asked. He glanced at the other knight. "Leon told me that you collapsed in the corridor."

"I was stabbed," he said plainly.

" _What?"_

"Right..." His fingers brushed the area a few inches below his heart. "Here."

Arthur clenched his jaw, closing his eyes. "Gwaine, this is no time for games. There's nothing there."

"But there _was_. Merlin must have... he must have done something." Gwaine still didn't want to mention his magic. "He..."

"Gwaine, there is no Merlin. There is no wound, and frankly, you're beginning to scare me." He leaned in closer to the knight. "Maybe you should take a few days off."

"I couldn't agree more, sire," Gaius added. "You need to rest, Gwaine. When Leon brought you in, you had a fever. How long have you been having these hallucinations?"

The knight looked like he'd been struck. "Hallucinations? Wh... how... _What?_ I'm not _hallucinating_. This- _this_ is real. Merlin is real, and he's out there alone, and _he needs our help."_

He didn't he realize he was shouting until Arthur squeezed his shoulder. Gwaine bit his tongue, feeling hot tears behind his eyes. It wasn't fair. He was failing his friend. Someone who'd never let him down. And it wasn't fair.

"As of now, you are relieved of your duties until further notice," Arthur said flatly, leaving no room for argument. "You will report to Gaius and follow his regiment to the letter until you're better. Do you understand?"

Gwaine couldn't met his eyes. Shame swelled within him. "Yes, sire."

The king rose and pulled Gaius aside. They talked quietly to each other before he gestured to Leon to follow him. Before he walked out the door, he turned back to the knight.

"Take care, Gwaine."

Once he left, Gwaine sighed heavily and flopped down on the bed, covering his burning eyes with his arm. No one was going to listen to him. No one was going to help him. It only cemented that he was on his own.

Like Merlin.

"Gwaine, drink this."

The knight pulled his arm away and glanced at the physician skeptically. "Why?"

A small, amused smile spread across his face. "It's just water. If you want to get better, you need to stay hydrated."

"I don't need to get better. I need to find Merlin."

Gaius didn't answer except to gesture to the water. The knight rolled his eyes but drank the whole glass in one go. Almost immediately, he began to feel tired. He glared at the physician.

"You lied," he slurred, making a mental note to never trust Gaius again.

"Well, it's _mostly_ water."

Only a moment later, the knight was out. This time, he didn't dream at all.

* * *

The next time he woke, the soft morning light coming in through the window gave the room a blue glow. Gwaine swallowed and yawned before he heard the small tinkling of glass jars in the main room below. He'd been put up in Merlin's room so Gaius could keep an eye on him. The very smell of the room helped Gwaine not feel like he was going insane. It smelled like Merlin. Like magic. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep until he heard Gaius snore particularly loudly.

If Gaius was sleeping, then who was in his chambers?

Hope shot through him that it might be Merlin. It had been one week since he'd first seen Merlin in the Lower Town. One week of him slowly learning more and more about his friend.

One day since he'd learned that he'd been fatally stabbed.

By Morgana.

And somehow he'd survived.

He jumped out of bed and ever so gently cracked the door open.

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the sight of the green cloak.

It _was_ him.

Merlin closed his bag and threw it on his back. His hair looked purple in the early morning light. Gwaine felt a rush of brotherly affection towards the man. He wanted to rush out and embrace him. He didn't even know exactly how long it had been since he'd _really_ seen him. Since he'd really spoken to his friend.

The thing that stopped him was the broken look that crossed Merlin's face when Gaius snored again. The young man slowly crept up towards the cot where the physician was sleeping. When he reached it, he paused. He reached out his hand ever so slowly... and hesitantly pulled it back.

Gwaine didn't realize he was holding his breath until he inhaled sharply. The warlock gave his mentor one more glance before he slipped out the door, throwing his hood up.

The knight only waited a moment before following him out.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: IDOM

Hey, friends. I'm really sorry for the suddenly dropping off the face of the earth. I've had a long and awful summer, but I'm back now. I've begun planning out the rest of this fic, and I've got some nice plans, guys. Hope you like this chapter!

Enjoy!

* * *

Merlin almost made it too easy to follow him. He didn't necessarily hug the walls, and he only seemed to be cautious when turning corners. It was child's play for both of them to avoid the early morning castle patrol. Something else Gwaine would have to talk to Arthur about. But for now, it suited their needs.

The knight followed the young man deeper and deeper into the castle. Merlin's boots clicked along the light colored stone, and Gwaine couldn't help but notice the slight limp in his gait. Fear shot through him as he remembered with shocking clarity the night that his friend has been stabbed; the night he was bleeding out in his arms. It took everything in him not to run up to the warlock and offer his assistance.

Gwaine was also concerned about where they were heading. They weren't heading outside; they weren't even heading further towards an exit. The warlock was leading him down dark corridors that were only lit be torchlight and down dozens of stairs. The young man paused at the end of an all-too-familiar set of stairs. If one turned right, it would lead them to the dungeons, left... Gwaine wasn't actually sure. He'd never been inclined to take that path. As far as he was aware, there was nothing.

He stopped, and Gwaine ducked down behind the corner at the top of the stairs. Had Merlin noticed him? The warlock looked right, towards the dungeon, and paused. It was only momentary, but when the knight saw the sad look on his face, he was even more confused. Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, the young man turned left and grabbed one of the torches off the wall. When he disappeared around the corner, Gwaine scrambled down the stairs after him.

There were no torchlights decorating this pathway, so Gwaine only had the quickly vanishing light from the warlock's torch. It made him need to follow his friend uncomfortably close if he wanted to see where he was going. The further they went down the corridor, the more muggy it smelt.

Finally, they came upon a strange set of stairs. They were not made of the light-colored stone or marble as the rest of the castle was. This was dark, cold, rugged stone. Gwaine had to keep his hand along the wall to help keep his balance. Thankfully, the man he was following had slowed down as well.

Suddenly, they were in a large cavern. No, large was still a small descriptor. Massive was more like it. Unbelievably large. Impossibly. Gwaine couldn't help but gasp. He slapped his hand over his mouth, praying that he hadn't been heard, but the torchlight kept going down the set of stairs off to the right. The dark stone walls were wet; water dripped down from the unfathomable high ceilings, and deep into the cave, Gwaine thought that he could see a hint of sunlight. How far down were they? _Where_ were they?

Gwaine saw metal glint on a ledge dozens of feet away. It was dark, but even then, the knight was far too familiar with manacles than most people. But these were huge. _Huge._ Which led to even more questions.

But those would have to wait. Merlin's light was disappearing, and if the older man didn't start moving, he'd lose it. Gwaine crept down the stairs after his friend. The warlock was slowed down by his injury, so it wasn't too hard to catch up with him. They went down a few more staircases, all the way down to the bottom of the cavern. No wonder he hadn't seen Merlin in a week. If he had to walk this much just to get to the main floor of the castle, he wouldn't want to either.

It was dimly lit, damp, and cool. There was even a small stream that ran through the center of the cavern. A little walk from the stairs, they came upon what must have been Merlin's camp. There was a pile of charred wood. A few feet away from that was a thick bedroll next to a pile of books. An unlit candle. A few more bags of what Gwaine guessed held supplies.

The young man set his bag down on the bedroll, carefully lighting the pile of wood on the floor with the torch. Well, this is where he had been heading. This was the end of the line.

Now what?

Did he reveal himself? Reveal that he knew? Dramatically walk into the firelight and ask Merlin what was going on? He was rather fond of that idea. Imagine the look on Merlin's face when he found out that he knew. Yep, that's what he was going to do.

Too bad that as soon as he took the first step, he tripped over a stone and landed flat on his face. He landed with a _woomph_ , and Merlin shot to his feet, hand out. Almost immediately, however, he put his hand back down.

" _Gwaine?!"_

The knight groaned into the dirt. Well, there goes his plan. He climbed to his feet, patting dust off his trousers before he looked at his friend. He thought that this might even be better than the dramatic entrance he'd hoped for. There was a stricken look on the young man's face. Surprise, relief, confusion, and deep, deep within his eyes, the knight saw... _hope._

" _Titles don't matter, Merlin. It's what a person is made of that counts."_

Gwaine gave a small wave. "Um, hi." He really hadn't thought of what he'd say, and now, as the warlock stared dumb-struck at him, he found himself fumbling for words. "Howww... how are you?"

Then Merlin did something he didn't he really wasn't expecting. He started laughing. It started with a small smile, a snort, but as the knight continued to fumble with words, it grew into a full out laugh. Anyone else, and Gwaine would have been more than mildly offended at someone laughing at him, but instead, the sound put him at ease. He felt his own laugh bubbling up in him.

" _You're the only friend I've got, Merlin."_

" _I'm not surprised."_

The moment was over all too soon, and the young man's lips drew back into a frown. A hand ran over the nape of his neck, and he wouldn't meet the knight's eyes. "What are you doing here, Sir Gwaine?"

"... _Sir_ Gwaine?"

Oh, right. He wasn't supposed to know who Merlin was. He didn't yet, not truly, but he remembered enough. The memories were there, in the back of his mind, every second pressing further and further forwards. Gwaine blinked to clear his head; the cave seemed to sway around him.

The green cloak was spread on the ground beside his friend, and he was thrown back to the training field, where the young warlock would watch them practice. He would stand there, alone, leaning against the castle walls, just watching them. Never really there, never speaking, never reacting. Heat rose up in the knight, hot and sparking and angry. Not at Merlin. Never Merlin. But at... at something. At this whole situation. At what felt like the loss of a friend. But also the discovery of one. Yearning, clear and burning, filled him. Was it possible to be homesick for a person? Desperation and anger and sadness. Too many emotions roiled within him and he couldn't sort them out.

Gwaine lashed out, hands balled into fists at his sides. "Where have you _been?"_

The young man took a step back, his eyes widening. "...Gwaine? What...?"

The cave spun threateningly, and suddenly, the knight found his face once more pressed against the dirt floor. Colors blurred in front of him, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was dark blue eyes filled with uncertainty.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, all! Thank you guys so much for your reviews! I really appreciated them and they encouraged me to keep going! It's good to be back. We get a bit more meat in this chapter, and I'm working on the next one. I hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

To say that Gwaine had interesting dreams was a slight understatement. A storm raged within him. Memories fought to rise to the surface and magic pushed it back down. It felt like he was being torn apart.

One minute he was riding hard down a dirt road. The next he was sitting on a wobbly stool at a pub, lifting a tankard of mead to his lips, laughing. His sword clashed against someone else's, and the knight could hear himself yelling. Scorching heat on his neck. Dirt falling into his armour. Blood falling into his eyes. Then, his arms wrapped around his friend. Thousands of moments passed before his closed eyes in mere seconds. They were blinding compared to the infinite darkness surrounding him. Someone was always a part of the memories: someone who smelt of herbs and books and armour polish.

Gwaine screamed in his dream. " _Merlin!"_ He was falling, falling, falling, _screaming_.

And then it stopped.

His breath caught in his chest and he gasped. Golden ribbons came out from the neverending darkness, wrapping around his wrist and ankles. The knight thought he should be frightened, but he wasn't. It felt warm, comforting. It was familiar.

 _Magic._

A voice, disembodied, floated around him, echoing through the vast space. The ribbons made him feel safe, and the voice seemed to ground him. It was calming. The voice of a friend.

" _It's okay. Come on, Gwaine. You're okay..."_

He woke up gasping.

There was a hand on his back, another soon on his forehead to keep his hair out of the way as he turned and threw up. The voice continued a stream of comforting words until it was over. His mind was full to bursting. A cup of water was pressed to his lips; his fingers wrapped around it and he drunk it greedily. Once it was gone, he pulled it away from his lips and focused on the person who gave it to him. Brown eyes met guarded blue, and surprisingly, Merlin was the one to speak first.

"You had a fever," he started hesitantly. "...how are you feeling?"

Gwaine took just a moment to calculate the young man. His eyebrows were drawn, his lips were held in a thin line. He was hugging himself slightly. He looked worried. He hadn't seen Merlin this worried in ages. And he didn't think he'd ever seen that look of fear in his eyes. He was struck with the sudden realization that he _remembered._ It wasn't just snatches anymore. It wasn't just dreams. He _remembered._

He chose to forgo Merlin's earlier question and instead leapt forward and wrapped the young man in a tight hug. He instantly tensed in his arms, but Gwaine just held him, sighing into his friend's shoulder and breathing in his scent. Oh, how he missed it.

"Found you," he whispered.

Merlin suddenly sagged in his arms, burying his head into his friend's shoulder. His hands fisted into the knights shirt, and he began shaking.

"It's okay, Merlin. I've got you now. I _remember,_ my friend. I remember."

The warlock sniffed and pulled back. There were unshed tears in his eyes, but there was also joy there, and hope. "I... that was me. I think I was able to bring them back. I just... I wasn't sure if it would work."

"It did," Gwaine crowed, a broad smile on his face.

They sat in companionable silence for several beats, just taking in the others presence, and reveling at the mere knowledge that the other was _there._ Merlin swiped at his nose, grabbing his pack and digging out a draught from Gaius' chambers. He snapped off the lid and handed it to the knight.

"I wasn't kidding about the fever, though. Drink this. It'll help."

Gwaine snorted, but did as he was told. He felt a cool sensation spread through him. For one of Gaius' potions, it wasn't horrible. He handed the vial back to Merlin, who put it back into his pack. Something jumped to the forefront of his mind.

"Merlin."

"Yeah?"

"You have magic."

"...yeah."

Gwaine couldn't decide if he sounded resigned or sad. Or maybe a little bit of both. He definitely didn't sound happy. But, frankly, they could talk magic later. Gwaine had decided days ago that it didn't bother him. In his travels before becoming a knight, he'd seen plenty of magic, both good and bad. And Merlin had every right to hide his magic: he was living in Camelot afterall. The place that was famous for executing people who practiced magic.

"Merlin?"

"Yeah?"

He was definitely more nervous to ask the next question. "...what happened?"

Stoking the fire, Merlin sighed. It wasn't hard to see the line of tension in his shoulders or the way his face drained of some color at the memories. It obviously still caused him grief, but Gwaine had to know. Especially if they were going to restore everyone else's memories. Somehow.

"Morgana attacked," he started. Merlin moved to sit next to the knight, but he wouldn't meet his eyes. His voice began to shake. "I wasn't prepared. I... there was no warning. She didn't even have an army with her. She just... _appeared_ in the courtyard with one other sorcerer. They just started _slaughtering_ anyone who got in their way. Knights fell, Gwaine. Townspeople. And I didn't even know she was there until dozens had been killed. Everything happened so fast."

He paused long enough to take a breath and gather his strength. A single tear slid down his cheek, and the look of horror in his eyes was mirrored in Gwaine's. The knight put a hand on his friend's shoulder, encouraging him to continue.

"She fought her way through the castle, towards Arthur's chambers. Arken, the other sorcerer, was covering her back. I was halfway across the castle fetching his lunch, but you... You were there. When Morgana reached his chambers... from what I could tell, you ran out to fight her. I reached you both just as Morgana... as she..."

Merlin's eyes glancing over at the knight's midsection explained it enough. Gwaine had heard of phantom pains from knights who'd lost hands or limbs in battle, and now he understood what they meant. He could feel a ghost pain right next to his heart, where the witch's blade had sliced between his ribs. It ached, and it took a breath to convince himself that it was gone; that he was fine.

"Arthur... He, uh, he came out of his rooms just in time to see me using magic to fight Morgana. It all happened so fast. I was able to slow down time, I guess, because everything just _stopped_. And... I don't remember being in control after that. I assume my magic took over, because one moment everyone was frozen, and then... you _weren't_ dying, Morgana and Arken were gone, and Arthur was back at his desk filling out reports with you standing there. Perfectly healthy. It... it didn't take long to figure out that neither of you remembered me."

Gwaine ran a shaky hand through his hair, struggling to wrap his mind around everything that his friend was telling him. It was the strangest story he'd ever been told, but he believed every word of it. His newfound memories were proof of it. He'd been giving a report to Arthur about the latest patrol when they heard the guards screaming. He had told Arthur to hide while he checked it out... And then everything happened.

He looked to Merlin, who was staring at his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Gwaine, I..." There was such guilt and desperation in his voice that the knight cringed. "Morgana wasn't just gone... she was... _gone_. I couldn't feel her magic anymore. There was nothing. But you lived. I think... Gwaine, I think I exchanged her life for yours. I think... I traded your lives."

Now the knight was truly speechless. Too many questions ran through his head, but he couldn't seem to vocalize any of them. It was still all too much.

"I've only done it once before, but I had the cup of life then. It was for Gaius. But... I shouldn't... I shouldn't have been able to... Gwaine, it's my fault. Everything is my fault."

The warlock covered his face with his hands as he held back his cries. Gwaine couldn't imagine the pain his friend was in. Not only to have to be put through that, but then to also be the only one to remember it, have been forgotten by everyone else, and ultimately killed someone to save another's life. It... any _one_ of those things would be labeled as traumatic, and Merlin had been put through all of it.

"And," Merlin continued weakly, "Arthur found out about my magic, finally. But he doesn't even remember _me."_

Not even hesitating, Gwaine reached forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, much more tenderly this time. Merlin immediately leant into it, seeking comfort. Oh, his poor friend... Who had he had through his whole ordeal? Who had been there to comfort him? Help him through this? As Merlin's tears continued to roll down his flushed cheeks, Gwaine's own began to fall.

Everything that Merlin told him... the events that happened... it was over a month ago.

Merlin had been alone, mourning the loss of a woman he'd once called a friend, mourning the loss of his friend's memories and, in truth, the rest of his friends. For what were friends if they didn't remember?

No matter what, Gwaine vowed to make this right. Somehow, they would fix this. There had to be a way.

After all, what were recently-dying-but-not-dead-now-remembered friends for anyway?


End file.
